


cat's cradle

by verity



Series: tween wolf [32]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Consensual Possession, Demonic Possession, Fiber Arts, Friendship, Gen, Magic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-17
Updated: 2013-05-17
Packaged: 2017-12-12 04:00:40
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,045
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/806978
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/verity/pseuds/verity
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Get it together, guys, this is like Tinkerbell," Stiles says. "Believe, or we're all going to die."</p><p>"Probably not?" Allison says.</p>
            </blockquote>





	cat's cradle

**Author's Note:**

  * For [blue_rocket_frost](https://archiveofourown.org/users/blue_rocket_frost/gifts).



> Don't try the silver nitrate thing at home. Or in the lab. Or anywhere. 
> 
> (Not that I didn't do it plenty in AP Chemistry.)

When Stiles found out exactly how his family's magic works, he was—disappointed, to say the least.

Sure, there's all the magical theory in his mom's notebooks, stuff that doesn't even look like words to Stiles, that's how far over his head it goes, and there's the work Deaton gives him, the magical equivalent of eighth grade chemistry. (Stiles has fond memories of eighth grade chemistry, when everyone discovered that silver nitrate makes _great_ temporary tattoos.) The magic that responds to Stiles, though, that listens to him, is fiber magic. Needlepoint, cross-stitch, crochet, tatting, braiding friendship bracelets—any and all apply. Not easy to learn on your own, though, or the best match for someone with ADHD. So Stiles joined the local stitch 'n bitch group and got comfortable watching the best Syfy has to offer. He's awesome at knitting and friendship bracelets (really), not so great at needlepoint, and totally badass at string figures.

The other thing Stiles has figured out over the years is that his magic doesn't work too well unless it's personal; Deaton's magic doesn't work _at all_ unless he does some serious MacGyvering. 

Stiles has Scott keep one hand on his shoulder so they can anchor each other and Scott can stop wolfing out. It's unfortunate that his own shoes are in the car, swapped out for flip-flops, but Stiles is going to make this work. He takes the laces out of Scott's shoes (kicked off next to the grill) and ties them together with his dad's into one big, uneven loop. With the clear-sight ointment on, he can see the energy in them, flickering like a lamp with a faulty bulb, bright one moment and dull the next.

He makes a tree.

—

The demon is hovering around Allison's shoulders, pouring off her like steam off dry ice. Stiles can see it drifting around, touching the others at the party, half of them people he's known since kindergarten. It's feeding off them. He's never seen anything like this, but he's read about it.

A little, if you count Deaton, and a lot if you count the Harry Dresden books. Which Stiles does, okay?

There's just a handkerchief in his pocket standing in between him and the demon; Dad has one, too, that Mom made and told him to always carry around. That's enough: this demon is pretty weak. Stiles isn't going to have the advantage that much longer, though, not if it keeps chowing down on everyone here like it's at Golden Corral.

"You think you can let go?" he asks Scott, who's panting like he's been climbing up an actual cliff, not just the wall in the gym. "We have to get Allison now."

Scott nods and releases his grip on Stiles's shoulder. The bond between them thrums for a moment, all golden and warm and cozy, before it bows under the weight of _demon trying to eat Scott, danger danger Will Robinson, you should fix this ASAP, this is not a drill_.

"Turn around," he tells Allison, waits for Scott to coax her up from the ground. "Hang in there, okay? I have to ask you a few questions."

"Yeah," Allison says, lifting her head. "Okay."

Stiles takes a deep breath. "What is its name? Where is its mark?"

Allison leans forward to whisper in his ear.

—

The tree is for the earth, because this demon clearly likes the air, and opposing elementals, Stiles learned all about this from the _Circle of Magic_ books when he was eight. Admittedly, when he learned this figure, it was supposed to be a broom, but it sort of looks like a tree with all the leaves bare and if he decides it's a tree, it's a tree. Lydia's topiary and yard seem to be okay with that, flickering in response to his twitchy fingers.

"Okay," he says. "Just so you know, I'm 100% making this up based on my comprehensive knowledge of contemporary urban fantasy and previous attempts at doing stuff with Scott's shoelaces." Also known as the time he tried to make a talisman to help Scott study faster and it didn't work. A lot. "But I have complete faith in our collective ability, to, uh—"

Scott growls. "Stiles!"

"Right, um, Allison—" Stiles nods toward her. "You need to put your hand on my shoulder, and Scott, you put yours back on the other one. Remember that time we were a pack? Because, uh, we've got to be a pack again. Right now. You have to will it. You've got to believe."

Allison frowns. "But—why would you guys want me to—" She looks down. "I mean, I—I brought this here, I—"

"It doesn't matter," Scott says, squeezing her shoulder. "You're still—you're still our pack. That's for _always_ , dude."

"Get it together, guys, this is like Tinkerbell," Stiles says. "Believe, or we're all going to die."

"Probably not?" Allison says.

—

Stiles believes.

Whatever Allison did, the first time, it didn't work right; that's why the brand on her hip is still red and swollen, not healing. Stiles isn't skilled enough to fix that, and he doesn't know how to undo it, but he can slap a magical band-aid on it. It'll hold for a little while.

He wraps the palm tree around Allison's arm, laces his fingers together on the other side. "With the help of Lydia's trees, and her lawn, and all the ground under her lawn, and in the name of all the awesome ladies I'm related to whom I'm not actually going to name, I'm going to bind you." He whispers the demon's name. "You are stuck here like glue for the indefinite future, so deal with it, asshole."

"Maybe you shouldn't piss it off?" Scott says, but it doesn't matter, because the demon's mark is glowing.

Stiles grabs the end of the palm tree with the pinky finger of his other hand so he can pull his handkerchief out of his pocket. Then he slaps it on Allison's hip and the light goes out like a snuffed candle.

The screaming around them stops.

Allison leans forward and puts her head on Stiles's shoulder, Scott leans in, and they hug it out.

It's going to be okay. Stiles's grandma has made him _plenty_ of hankies.

**Author's Note:**

> If only this were a handkerchief-sized problem.
> 
> I'm [ladyofthelog](http://ladyofthelog.tumblr.com) on tumblr.


End file.
